The Strength of the Wind
by SpadePoet
Summary: "The stronger wind, the stronger trees; The further sky, the greater length; The more the storm, the more the strength." Douglas Malloch. Luke Eve and his twin Laciel Eve deal with the death of their best friend, Daryl Rivers. OC story. Companion to 'Maybe'


Luke looked down into the streets; he was sixteen.

The streets of District Twelve were bland, as always. Even in Town, the once-red bricks were coated with a thick layer of soot. It was the middle of the summer. Luke was walking down the paved roads; the sun was in the sky, everything was blue, beautiful… but blank. Children were walking about, laughing, playing, blonde townschildren with new clothing in celebration for not being picked for the games. In fact, the Games were going on right now. It was about two weeks in.

Daryl had died.

An arrow. It was an arrow to his stomach, even though he knew how to use it, even though he knew how to run, how to fight, how to live.

Daryl didn't just die, either. Luke had died; his best friend was gone forever.

Luke found himself dragging his feet along the pavement.

* * *

Luke rang the shop bell as he walked through the door; there were sweets in various sized jars with markings all over. Various colors of pinks, peppermints, and sugars, different shapes, sizes, and uses. But in a small corner on a green tablecloth (that he might add was from his family's shop) were sweets mixed with herbal things from the Apothecary. Coughdrops. Sweets to make breath smell better. Cure-all for clearing the head. He put in about five drops for Laciel, who was sick with a cold at home, and went up to the counter.

Margaret, the sweetshop owner's daughter, had been running the counter that morning. She was friends with them back in their elementary school; she said she always passed Daryl and him hanging out by the Meadow a lot together after school.

"Hi, Luke." Said Margaret. Her smile was chipper, as normal.

"Hi." Luke mumbled back, placing the brown bag on the counter, getting out some money for her. His eyes were distant, and his movements were slower than usual.

Margaret was silent, her own eyes observing. Of course she knew Daryl was in the Games, but she didn't say another word as she rung Luke up.

She handed him his change and the bag. But before he left, Margaret grasped his hand with both of her's.

"I know… that you, your sister…." She paused, pondering over her words. "… And Daryl…. Used to come here, and buy this candy all the time." Her voice was sweet, calming, but nauseating as Luke stiffened at hearing Daryl's name. "This is free. For Daryl."

Daryl, Laciel, and Luke loved honey candy; when they had extra change, they always stopped by to buy some. It was special to them; birthdays, small events. In fact, just a day before the Reaping, the three of them had stopped by the shop to get three pieces for good luck.

Luke looked at her, shock on his features. He nodded his head, accepted the candy, pulling his hands away. He had left without another word, just a gentle look of thanks.

Luke's feet felt heavier on the pavement than ever. Just to have a taste, he gave a piece a slow lick.

Nostalgia filled his senses; Daryl running in the summer with Missy on his back, Laciel in a white dress; Daryl walking with the three of them, running his mouth about the sun, the moon, the sky, the world. Daryl, apologizing to Luke for a week after he hurt Laciel, Daryl, exciting the two of them about the simple things in life.

* * *

Luke was in front of the clothing shop, The Eve Thread Shop, caught up in thoughts of his dead best friend. There were no customers today, as it was a Sunday and everyone was resting. He held the pieces of candy in between his fingertips, when a tear dropped onto a pink orb. Before he had realized it, he was crying.

He knew Daryl wasn't going to come back. It wasn't something he was betting on, but the severe loss of his childhood friend, who had played in the forest with him as children, who had hunted for meat because it was more of a hobby than a necessity, who had watched their fathers get shot, dragged away, in front of their eyes, who laughed with him, made him smile, made his twin sister smile.

Without any resolve for his feelings, a disheveled Laciel burst open the front door of their shop and looked at him through hazy, glazed eyes that were gleaming with tears. She was slumping, head tilted to the side in exhaustion. Her black hair stuck out in all directions, and she was still in her pajamas. She was crying all night that night dreadful evening, about two days ago, while they watched Daryl die, on top of herself being sick.

Luke was about to coldly away from her, through the doorway and behind the counter when her light, whispered voice spoke out.

"Marilynn… died just now."

Luke paused in his steps. "Really?" he forced out his voice as powerfully as he could. "Not even she lived?" He trembled, shaking his head.

Laciel nodded. Her blue eyes were droopy and wet.

"Who killed him?" He didn't want to remember who killed Daryl. But Daryl passed his life onto Marilynn, who he hoped would live. Daryl had hoped Laciel and Luke would live, too.

"Weston, I think his name was."

Honestly Luke couldn't even remember who the guy was, because he deemed him unimportant. _Oh, he's the blind one._ Luke didn't want to know how she died, either. It was probably grotesque…

Luke shook his head yet again, his blonde hair getting messed up as he ran a troubled hand through it. Turning to Laciel, his eyes were blank and gone, dried tears on his cheeks. He held his hand out, a piece of pink candy for her in it.

"It's from Margaret." He again forced out his voice, it was more broken by the second. "She said… it was free." He sniffed, clenching in his other hand the bag of cough drops for Laciel. "For Daryl."

Laciel took the candy into her hand, but looked at it; looked at it, and just burst into tears. She put the candy in her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks, when she jumped towards Luke, hugging him tightly.

"Why him?" she cried. "Why any of us?" Her wails were loud in his ear as he listened, his tears were streaming down his cheeks too.

"I don't know." He replied, silent tears going down his cheeks.

The two stood there, in the middle of their shop, in silence for a little while. After the sound of sobbing had died down, Laciel pulled away from Luke and rested her forehead against his.

Laciel closed her eyes; which were red, swollen, and wet; suddenly, she bit down on the candy. "He'll be protecting us, Daryl. He promised, remember?" She whispered, using his shirt to wipe her face. "Just because he's gone, doesn't mean he's not here."

Luke looked down at her, and she opened her eyes; blue, bright, just like Daryl's. Though she contrasted the two of them in personality, her eyes were just like his, just like Missiline's. He remembered the candy, which was now sticky in his hands. He remembered what Daryl said to him before he left for the games; _I'll come back for all of you. _He popped the piece of candy in his mouth, relishing the flavor.

"Yeah. You're right."

* * *

**A/N: I was reading through Bahrtok's work and I was kind of sobbing because I remembered how everyone died, so I wrote this. More a less a companion to "Maybe" and my OCs, which I can obviously write better than when I was in the eighth grade. But hey, everyone changes. Its nice to see everyone again!**

**-Spade Poet, aka The Little Asian**


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